


As Long As You Come Home To Me

by tryslora



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adultery, Exhibitionism, Facials, Formalwear, Implied Werewolf-Heritage Teddy Lupin, Multi, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 08:26:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8365051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tryslora/pseuds/tryslora
Summary: Teddy just pledged himself to Victoire, but when Draco wants just one more time together, Teddy can’t resist.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the September theme(s) at Daily Deviant. I took a bit of a vacation from the comm and returned refreshed and ready to write.

“You look good.”

Three simple words, lightly said, but Teddy can smell the emotion behind them. He can taste the heady musk lingering in the air, can feel the whisper of desire as he inhales. Teddy smiles slowly, takes a sip of his champagne. Draco is tall, but Teddy is just a bit taller, enough that he can lower his gaze, watch Draco from slightly hooded eyes. “You should know,” Teddy says. “You picked out the robes. I remember something about my taste not being good enough to choose my clothes for my own wedding.”

“Have you received anything but compliments?” Draco arches one eyebrow, and Teddy laughs softly.

“Everyone has been exceedingly complimentary, and at least one elderly witch—related to me in some manner, I suppose—tried to grab my arse,” Teddy confides. “Victoire simply claimed I look good enough to eat.”

“You do.” There’s a fresh wave of hunger in the air, musky desire, thick and deep. Draco licks his lips, lets his gaze rake across Teddy’s form. “Good enough to devour,” Draco says.

Teddy wavers. Flirtation is one thing, but this is his wedding day. To _Victoire_. “Draco….”

Draco sets aside his flute of champagne. “You seem a bit peaked, Teddy. Perhaps you should step out for a moment, rest for a time,” he suggests.

“No.” Teddy forces the one word out, keeps the rest at bay. He bites down on the words _come with me_ or perhaps _Victoire will never notice_ and he takes a long gulp to drain his own glass. “I’m fine, just a bit tired from the day.”

“It’s more fun when you flirt,” Draco murmurs.

“I promised myself to Victoire just two hours ago,” Teddy reminds him, voice low. He pitches his body towards Draco, lets his shoulder lean against his cousin’s. To any outsiders, it might look as though they were sharing a quiet conversation, perhaps a joke as Teddy smiles slightly. “I told you—we can’t, not again.”

“I don’t believe you.” Draco’s tongue slips out, touches his lips, makes them wet and inviting.

Teddy sways closer, then pulls himself away, shoves his hands into the hidden pockets of his robes, even though he ruins the lines. He sees the way Draco’s expression tightens with disapproval, and Teddy shrugs. “It’s true,” he lies, and he knows it makes matters worse. He knows exactly how much Draco wants things that he cannot have, and he knows how high he rates among those things that Draco wants. The musk is thicker now, and he suspects that if he turned and let his hand drift across the front of Draco’s robes, he’d find a hard ridge hidden there, thick evidence of Draco’s desire. Teddy bites his lip, and there’s a soft noise.

“Please,” Draco whispers. “Just once more. You were mine, Teddy, even while you were hers. I’ve given you everything for this wedding, I’ve tried to give you up. Just be mine once more.”

It’s the hitch in Draco’s voice, the low lilt that shifts from gentle control to near-begging. It’s the need that twists his scent, changes his tone and lets Teddy know just how desperate Draco is. Teddy gives in to instinct, turns to face Draco, his hand hidden between them. Teddy just barely grazes across Draco’s robes, enough to change the fall of the fabric, let his fingers drift across the thickness of Draco’s erection. Teddy swallows hard, steps closer, looking down at Draco as he grips that prick and hears the hitch of Draco’s heartbeat. “Fine,” Teddy murmurs, tightening the circle of his fingers until Draco moans. “Meet me upstairs in the suite.”

Draco nods and inhales roughly, holding the breath as he composes himself. His mask falls into place easily, as if nothing had ever disturbed him, and Draco steps away, smoothing his robes as he goes. “Of course, Teddy.”

Teddy watches Draco go, elated to have this one more chance, and frustrated that he can’t seem to give him up. He had promised himself that he would, and yet here he is again, hungry for one more taste, drunk on Draco’s aroused scent. He casts his gaze around the room, frowning slightly when he doesn’t spot Victoire. It would be polite to tell his wife that he’s stepping out, but at the same time, if she doesn’t see him go, she’ll be less likely to be angry later. At least that’s what he tells himself.

He slips out of the room, leaving behind a host of relatives and friends, their chatter fading in the distance as he walks hastily away. The halls of the hotel are nearly empty; it’s off-season, which is why it was so easy and inexpensive to rent. And Draco took advantage, renting the entirety of the hotel for Teddy and Victoire and their guests. Draco claims it’s a wedding gift, but Teddy sees it as an attempt to stay in his life.

In a way, he doesn’t mind. Even if they can’t be lovers, Draco will always be his favorite cousin.

The honeymoon suite is at the top of the hotel. Teddy touches his wand to the sign in the elevator, calls out the floor number and braces himself as the elevator swiftly rises. It stops with a jerk, the doors sliding open as a sing-song voice announces, “Penthouse. Honeymoon suite. A room made for magical nights and love!” Teddy winces at the happy words as he steps out, lets the doors slide shut behind him.

The scent of Victoire lingers in the room, strong enough that Teddy swears that even Draco must be able to smell her perfume. It’s something French and outrageously expensive, a gift from her mother every year on Victoire’s birthday. She’s worn it for so long that it’s become intrinsically connected to her own scent, and Teddy can’t smell it without thinking of her.

Victoire is the last thing he wants to have on his mind when Draco is sprawled across the couch, his robes unbuttoned from bottom to waist, falling open around his spread legs. It’s a lewd image, the bare skin framed by black silk, Draco’s hand idly caressing his bollocks and the length of his prick. It’s lewd, and it’s absolutely gorgeous.

Teddy growls under his breath, and Draco just looks at him, smiling slowly. “I don’t know how you thought you would resist,” Draco says quietly, and Teddy growls again, going to him and dropping to his knees. Teddy puts his hands on the insides of Draco’s knees and pushes them apart, wedging himself into the space between his legs.

This close, the musk is overwhelming. Hot and thick, centered around Draco’s crotch, it draws Teddy in. He nuzzles close, rubbing his cheek along the soft skin of Draco’s shaft, nips at the sensitive skin on the inside of Draco’s thigh. Draco jumps, his hand falling to Teddy’s head, fingers threading through his hair.

“You look beautiful tonight,” Draco murmurs, nudging Teddy’s head closer to his prick. Teddy goes willingly enough, but he’s not ready to give Draco everything. Not yet. If this is going to be the last time—and it _is_ going to be the last time—he’s damn well going to make it last.

“You bought me these robes,” Teddy whispers, pressing the words into Draco’s skin with his lips and tongue. He nuzzles into the crease of his thigh, licks gently at the base of his prick. “You chose exactly how I would look today. You made me perfect.”

Draco’s fingers tighten in his hair, and Teddy whines at the pressure. The pain goes straight to his cock, blood filling it until it’s tight in his pants. “What?” Teddy asks. “What do you want?”

Draco sits up, cradles Teddy’s face in his hands, fingers gentle now. “Stay dressed, in all this perfect finery. Suck me down, take everything you want of me.”

Teddy’s eyes drift closed. He nods once, places his hands on the insides of Draco’s knees and pushes them apart, nuzzling in against his cock. He inhales, tastes the musk of deep arousal, licks a stripe along his prick to taste the sweat and musk. A flick of his tongue against the underside of Draco’s prick, just above his balls, and Draco moans. He lets go of Teddy, falls back to recline on the couch, legs spread to let Teddy take what he will.

Teddy takes his time, tasting every bit of skin, nipping at the curve of Draco’s arse where he can reach it, licking into the depth of the crease where leg meets groin. He works one finger under Draco, gently presses against the puckered hole that he can feel. No more than careful pressure, not trying to push in, just enough to tease and arouse. At Draco’s whimper, Teddy smiles. It’s rare that Draco gives him everything, but it seems this is one time that _take everything_ truly means just that.

He hitches his hands under Draco’s thighs, lifts him up, baring his hole to his sight. Teddy leans in, just barely tastes with a flick of his tongue, feeling the way Draco’s hole flexes slightly under his touch. He licks again, starting to get him wet, waiting until he hears the whisper of his name in assent, pleading for more.

Teddy’s sloppy, soaking Draco’s arse with his saliva. He opens him up with the careful press of his tongue, pushing into him, getting him wet. Teddy’s patient, taking him apart inch by inch, working Draco’s prick with one hand while he slowly fucks him with his tongue. He works with the slow sway of Draco’s hips, his own prick achingly hard. He wants to claim Draco, to spill inside of him and leave his scent on him in a way that won’t fade for days. Teddy presses harder, urges him with quicker strokes, and he feels when Draco’s thighs go tight, his body bowing.

Draco sits up abruptly, reaches for Teddy and winds his fingers in his hair, holding him in place. He keeps him there as he orgasms, coming in hard spurts across Teddy’s face and tongue, spreading his taste and scent. As he slowly eases, Draco’s hands slide down, rubbing the sticky fluid into his cheeks before he kisses him gently.

Draco draws Teddy up, and Teddy straddles Draco on the couch, his robes hitched up and puddling around them as they fit hip to hip. They keep kissing, slow and easy as Teddy rocks his hips against Draco’s. “Please,” Teddy whispers, and Draco pulls back, looking at him.

There’s a soft, slow clapping somewhere in the distance, and Draco turns, one eyebrow arching. Teddy follows the path of his gaze, his heart sinking when he sees Victoire standing there in the doorway, her dress in disarray, the flowing skirt hitched up to her waist, one strap sliding off her shoulder. He can just barely see the tip of one nipple about to peek out, the bodice sliding down, and it shouldn’t make him harder and yet somehow it does.

“Don’t stop on my account,” she says, licking her lips. “Does he let you fuck him?”

Teddy’s off-kilter at the crash of his worlds. “Sometimes,” he answers, adding, “rarely,” because he feels the need to be honest.

Victoire approaches slowly. “This room is a wedding gift, yes? This dress, those robes—all gifts from Draco Malfoy to his favorite cousin. I’d think the gift of his ass might be a good addition.”

“Would you mind?” Draco asks, that eyebrow still arched, as calm as if this were afternoon tea rather than being caught in the midst of adulterous sex.

“I want to watch him fuck you,” Victoire says bluntly as she settles on the chair across from them. She has her skirts still hitched, her knickers soaked at the crotch and nearly see-through. “Will you give us that?”

In answer, Draco reaches under Teddy’s robes and vanishes his pants, leaving his cock achingly hard and cold in the air. Draco conjurs lubrication, warms it in his hands and strokes it along Teddy’s length; it takes everything of Teddy’s control not to come right there.

“Fuck,” Teddy whispers, thrusting into the warm circle of Draco’s fingers.

“Him,” Victoire says. “Fuck _him_.”

They rearrange, Draco lying across the couch face down, his arms wrapped around a pillow. His arse is in the air, still glistening with Teddy’s saliva. Teddy leans in, parts the globes of his arse and laps again at his hole, starts the process all over again to open him up, readying him and slicking him until he can manage to get two fingers inside. Draco’s breath catches, a fresh scent of musk rising as Teddy finds his prostate and strokes it with one finger.

Teddy doesn’t look at Victoire as he positions himself and slowly presses in. Draco’s tight—always tight, so rarely fucked—and it takes several small thrusts before Teddy’s seated bollocks deep within him. Teddy stays right there, unable to move lest he come immediately, shuddering slightly.

“Teddy,” Draco whispers, and Teddy closes his eyes, wanting to make this last.

“Draco.” His name is choked off, and Teddy pulls back and thrusts deep. Draco cries out, and Teddy dimly hears Victoire’s low whimper as he thrusts again. It’s almost too much—there’s no way he can last long—and Teddy loses himself in the sensation of fucking into Draco over and over, burying himself deep in that perfect, tight arse. He’s only dimly aware of Victoire’s shout in the background, or the way Draco frantically wanks himself as Teddy spills inside of him.

He pulls out and shoves two fingers in deep, stroking Draco’s prostate until Draco comes again with a strangled cry, spilling all over the couch. Teddy slides down next to him on the couch, not caring that there’s a spreading sticky wet spot because it smells like Draco and him and there’s a swell of Victoire’s musk wrapped around them, her perfume still permeating the room.

There’s a soft squelching sound, and the rustle of fabric.

Then silence except for low breath.

Teddy drifts, not wanting to address the fact that they are all three here, sated and undressed to various degrees. That on his wedding day, he has just fucked his best friend, lover, and cousin, while his wife watched. He doesn’t even know where to begin.

“It’s my turn next.” Victoire sounds rough and husky, and hitches on a soft laugh at the end. “I’ll give you time, don’t worry. Draco looks worn out.”

“Am I involved in the next round?” Draco’s voice is muffled by the cushions. “I thought _wedding night_ implied husband and wife.”

“I think we’re already long past that,” Victoire says tartly. “Besides, you two have been together for ages—oh, don’t think I didn’t know, Teddy, I’m not an idiot. I just didn’t care, as long as you came home to me.”

Teddy sits up at that, his skin flushed warm rose. “You knew?”

She gives him a look that he swears she learned from her grandmother. “Of course I knew. You aren’t very sneaky, and Draco has a distinctive cologne. Besides, he buys you a ridiculous amount of gifts. It’s obvious to anyone who looks that he loves you dearly.”

Draco makes a muffled sound, but doesn’t deny the accusation.

“Admittedly, I didn’t think you’d bring him up here now.” Victoire glances at the door. “I’d told Dominique to tell you to meet me up here, and I thought that’s why you came up. When Draco walked in and started stripping off on the couch, I thought I’d stick around and watch.”

“You’re not angry.” Teddy’s stuck on the semantics, still confused by the conversation.

Victoire’s expression gentles. “I’m not angry, Teddy. You love him as much as he loves you, that’s clear. All I ask is that you come home to me. I know you have enough love in your heart for both of us; you wouldn’t have promised yourself to me otherwise.”

Teddy shifts as Draco shoves at him gently.

“Off,” Draco says. “We’re moving this to the bed, where I won’t be smothered by a lout who can’t be arsed to get off of me, and where your wife can join us. If we’re going to have a conversation about our future ability to continue fucking, I’d like to be comfortable.”

Victoire shimmies her shoulders, lets the gown fall down to her waist. When she rises, it stays behind in a puddle as she steps out of it. She holds out a hand, and Teddy takes it, rising slowly to meet her. He kisses her gently, loves the way she sways towards him, her own scent rich and thick with satiated hunger. “You mean it?” he asks.

“I can’t promise this will be the last time we discuss it,” Victoire admits. “But I’m willing to try. As long as you come home to me.”

“You can have him; I’ve been married and I find I rather like being single,” Draco says dryly. “Our arrangement has its benefits.”

“Then it’s settled.” Victoire tugs Teddy towards the bed. “Come with me and consummate our marriage.”

By the time they get to the bed, Draco is sitting on the edge of the couch, watching them, one eyebrow arched in amusement. He waves one hand. “Go on, do what you’re going to do. I’m old, and you’ve just managed to make me come twice in the space of an hour. I’m wrung dry for the moment.”

“You still have hands and a tongue, old man,” Teddy quips, and Draco is standing a moment later, rising to the challenge.

It’s not at all what he expected of his wedding night, but when Teddy thrusts into his wife, his lover kissing him deeply at the same time, it’s everything he needed and never knew he wanted.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me [on tumblr](http://tryslora.tumblr.com).


End file.
